


The Essence of Justice is Mercy

by ziegler



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Ana and Jack are best buds, F/F, Fluff, Pharah would have bought Mercy Swiss chocolates tbh, Pharmercy, Romance, Sexual Content, Smut, and so she does
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 16:44:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9280403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziegler/pseuds/ziegler
Summary: Pharah goes through the pain of being away from Mercy for a few days, and it feels like a lifetime; but Swiss chocolates and an endless amount of love await the good doctor on her return.





	

“Fareeha…” Ana asks, with a wry, knowing smile, and Pharah knows right away that she’s about to be teased.

 “Yes?”

“So,” she begins, chuckling to herself as she stirs her cup of tea, and Pharah folds her arms with a cocked eyebrow. “Valentine’s Day is coming up soon, isn’t it? Are you getting Angela anything?”

Pharah feels her eyelids flutter from expecting this question, but actually hearing it made her feel like a fool with a crush all over again.

“Well, obviously.”

“ _Obviously_!” Ana replies with a faux indignation. “Is that all I’m getting? No hints as to what you’ve gotten? How rude to hide it from your own mother! Isn’t that right, Jack?”

Ana leans back against the warmth of her leather armchair with a creak, looking over at the soldier behind her, sat in the corner by the table. He’s silent, as always. Always staring longingly at the picture in his hands as he sits just off from the fireplace.

"Isn't that right! _Jack_!"

“Looks like your back-up was out on that one, mother.”

Ana sighs wearily. Pharah laughs with a tone to suggest victory, but for what, neither is sure.

"I suppose you're right."

Ana chuckles throatily, and raises her eyebrows with sympathy. She heaves herself out of her armchair, weary from the day’s events of sniping, and places her hand on Pharah’s strong shoulder as they walk across the living quarters, and whispers something in Pharah’s ear.

“Don’t let yourself end up like Jack, Fareeha.” she mumbled under her breath, and Pharah can tell she’s not saying this to be unkind. “It’s not fun watching one of your best friends go through heartbreak every day because he missed his chance. I know you two are together now, but…don’t let up on your love, even for a day. War can take everything from you in an instant…something I know you know all too well.”

Pharah pauses. There is a pain in her heart.

She knows Ana is right.

This _was_ war, after all – their lives were by no means guaranteed to be safe just because they were trained.

“…Alright, alright.”

“Good!” Ana exclaims with a cheerful smile, patting Pharah’s shoulder as she walks back towards the armchair. “Good, good…make sure you do it right! Research your gift! Get your kiss with the doctor on Valentine’s!”

“God, Mom, stop!”

 

The wintry winds outside bashed against the bunker, and Pharah smiles to herself, knowing full well that actually, she already has her Valentine’s gift. Swiss chocolates, of all varieties, in a large, red, stereotypically heart-shaped box. The box was unintentional, but they were the only ones she could find that _were_ Swiss; she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to show she’d actually thought intently about the things that the woman she adored liked.

Sitting in front of a warm fire in the Overwatch lounge made everything seem so miniscule. She slumped down against the side of Ana’s armchair, relaxed, and feeling the fire’s warmth licking at Pharah’s face, dancing against her closed; feeling how it was such relief to be able to finally _relax_ , given that the past few days had felt achingly long for the both of them. Too damn long.

She missed her girlfriend.

Pharah had been wistful for four days solid. Ana had known almost instantly that she would be when Winston read off the roll call for the escort trip to Nepal. She felt the grip on her sniper rifle tighten as she cleaned the interior; listening subtly to the words being said before her, just up at the podium in this large, grey room.

“Angela,” Winston’s deep voice spoke softly, and tried to avert his gaze from an apprehensive Pharah in the background. “I, um, I’m sorry to ask this of you…”

“That’s alright, Winston.”

“I know you would much rather be with -”

“It’s fine Winston, really!” Angela stammered, with a more forced tone to her accent. Winston could tell that she was flustered.

She laughed with a tremble, rubbing at her arms with her hands. Her eyes seem watery, and her smile was one not of unhappiness, but of anxiety, and he adjusts his glasses as he looks over the clipboard in his hands.

Angela repeats herself, if only seemingly to calm her own nerves.

“…That’s alright. It’ll only be for a few days, right?”

“Right.”

“…Then I’ll be off shortly. Do I have time to say my goodbyes?”

“Oh! Of course!” Winston replies with a surprised tone, almost indignant, as if he just couldn’t believe Mercy would think otherwise. Pharah and Mercy were the worst kept secret in Overwatch – perhaps even to them – and Winston himself thought how he did not want to have separated them in the first place.

“I’ll go and do just that.”

Both Ana and Winston can see – in this empty briefing room – the atmosphere of the place.

Ana thinks how, even with one eye, it was almost opaque, certainly palpable, and she thought to herself how the air around Angela seemed positively blue. When she was younger, she was so vibrant, undistracted, a professional in the making – and now she was already professional, seasoned at that, her mind could afford to relax.

Ana felt herself smile when she saw Angela’s face light up at seeing Pharah.

“Fareeha!” she spoke with a soft, relieved surprise, as Pharah grinned from the back wall with a tinge of melancholy. Her blue armour was shining golden in the morning sun, streaming like fountains through the metallic blinds of the base; and Pharah walked up towards the blonde doctor before her.

“Good morning, Angela.” she replies with a bright, apprehensive smile. “Do we need…to have a chat?”

Ana notices the hesitant tone in Pharah’s voice, and she feels her heart hurt for the two of them.

“I’m afraid we do.” Mercy replies, with a sorrowful look on her face. Pharah feels the weight in her stomach drop like a boulder, and Ana swears she can almost hear it fall.

-  
  
Ana, like many others, wasn’t quite sure whether Angela Ziegler and her daughter would _ever_ get it together, but the two had proven her wrong after much flirting and mutual, private pining. These days Pharah was always swept up in a haze, of a crush-filled, honeymoon bliss, often stealing moments away with Mercy to press her lips to hers in the alleyways or secret areas of a location. They hadn’t been together officially for long, but mentally, everyone on the force knew they were in love a long time ago – as did they.

Ana smiled to herself, as she watched from a distance.

“Young love, eh…” she mumbled to herself with a grin.

It was sweet, watching Angela placing her hands either side of Fareeha’s face, stroking the dark skin of her cheeks with her thumbs. Her blue eyes were looking positively adoringly into Pharah’s; and Pharah herself was wrapping her arms around the good doctor’s waist; resting them comfortably on her hips.

“I don’t want you to go,” Pharah mumbled from underneath the visor of her helmet, and Mercy grinned a little emotionally. “I know it can’t be helped, but…I’ll miss you.”

Pharah moves a hand off of Mercy’s hip to place on the blonde’s gloved hand, resting gently on her face, and Mercy strokes her cheek again; tracing the very bottom line of the tattoo around Pharah’s eye.

Mercy bites her lip, and Pharah feels the pang of desire hit her in her chest. Her blue eyes flicker back up to Pharah’s dark brown ones, unfaltering and unwavering, as the reality of infatuation sinks in a little more. This affection, this comfortable, spoken adoration of one another would be halted for four days. Neither woman could think of anything they wanted _less_.

“I know…I don’t want to either, I just…”

Angela’s breath hitches, and she closes her eyes.

Pharah feels herself melt.

“…Come here.”

Pharah is soft spoken, and pulls Mercy close to her gently.

The two move slightly from their intimate gaze, eyes locked between them, and embrace tightly; with Mercy pressed hard up against Pharah’s chest, and Pharah’s strong arms holding her so tight that she almost lifted her golden-soled boots off of the ground. Ana smiled to herself with relief as she heard Mercy giggle for the first time that morning in Pharah’s arms, as well as the deep chuckle of her daughter; and, deciding the two _did_ need their privacy despite her own personal nosiness, crept away stealthily from the moment behind the ship’s dock.

“Were you spying on someone again?”

“Oh, ease up, Jack. It’s not good for your health to be so suspicious!”

“Hmph. Fareeha, was it?”

Ana opts to remain silent as her and Jack walk away, their footsteps crunching in the snow.

“I hope nothing happens to Angela out there.” He speaks gruffly from behind his mask. Ana scoffs.

“ _Nothing_ will happen to Angela Ziegler. Do you know who she is?”

 

The moment between Pharah and Mercy continued. It continued almost endlessly.

  
Winston hadn’t specified how much time Angela had to say her goodbyes, and she was going to take full advantage of that. It was heaven, breathing in the scent of pine against Pharah’s skin, and running her hands up Pharah’s back with such a sense of longing comfort that she could never quite describe. Pharah feels her eyes flicker shut in an attempt to not well up, her gloved hands almost caressing Mercy as they stood, just outside of the bunker and before the dawn in Volskaya.

_It’s just four days. It’s nothing. Right?_

The snow fell gently, and the sun was bright, looming over the factory like a beacon of goodbye.  
  
Pharah sighs into the crook of Angela’s neck, and thinks _god, I want to kiss her like crazy._

And she does.

Pharah slips off the gauntlets of her suit briefly, placing them down at her boots, and Mercy feels her lips tingle with the anticipation of knowing this move from her lover. And like clockwork, it happens; a welcome prediction, even moreso today, of Pharah placing her hands on Mercy’s face, stroking her alabaster skin, and kissing into her lips with as much love as she can muster.  
  
_Be careful_ , _and I love you_ , were the two things Mercy got the most from such a kiss.

Mercy kisses back, feeling the smooth brush of her lips against Pharah’s, and the wetness against the surface of her lips. Her hands bunch up into Pharah’s hair gently, exhaling contentedly, softly, through her nose and against Pharah’s skin, as Pharah moves her hands back to her hips to hold her tight again.

They kiss, for a while. A long while. Involuntary noises of pleasure and the sensation of a smile between kisses were becoming more and more frequent.

Neither keep track of the time, and neither care to.

They don’t know how long they kiss for, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough.

Their lips break apart, and Pharah finds herself blinking as Mercy grins, but not before kissing her forehead.

“That was incredibly enjoyable.” she speaks into the silence, with a laugh of contentedness. “Perhaps I should go away for a few minutes at a time, if that’s the send-off I’ll be getting.”

Pharah pauses, and chuckles, picking up her gauntlets off of the ground with one hand, and not removing her other from Mercy’s hip.

“You know full well you don’t _have_ to go anywhere for me to give you that kind of treatment, Angela.”

Mercy smiles, and so does Pharah; for a moment forgetting the reality of their situation; and then pausing.

Mercy still had to go away for a few days. No kiss could change that. And it was not what either wanted.

“Well,” Mercy begins, and the sound of a voice after minutes of such an affectionate moment between them is almost piercing – no matter how softly she tries to break the silence. “I suppose…I suppose I’d better be off.”

“…Right.”

“It’s just four days, liebling.” Angela says with a positive grin, and Pharah knows not to voice her worries right before Angela goes. “It’s only four days...why, that’s nothing! We’ll be back to keeping the skies clear together in no time!”

“Yeah. You’re right.” Pharah speaks with a smile, and has never felt a smile be so forced in her entire life. “I…I mean, I’ll feel a little -”

“Lost?” Mercy finishes for her, and the two laugh quietly. “Me, too. Who’ll be around to fly up and let me get beautiful windswept hair?”

Pharah chuckled.

“Your hair is always beautiful, Angela.”

The two pause, and then feel their cheeks grow hot as they look away from one another briefly. Pharah curses herself for letting the words tumble out of her mouth, and Mercy laughs with a giddy dizziness about her.

Pharah clears her throat.

“Uh, well…I’ll walk you to the docking area. Is that alright?”

“Is that alright! I wouldn’t allow you to _not_ escort me, if anything.”

Pharah laughs, and Mercy smiles at her with an undiluted affection.

“Let’s get going, then.”

They walk, dragging their feet, and somewhere along the way, their hands lock tight between each other. An unspoken affection, such a mutual, seemingly endless love was so obvious between them, and yet, neither could quite bring themselves to admit it. Not yet, anyway. Not yet.

Pharah has never been so reluctant in her whole life than the moment Mercy’s hand leaves her own. Mercy is dragging her feet still, her boots leaving slow, hesitant footsteps up the clanging of the ramp to the ship, and Pharah folds her arms in displeasure at the situation.

“Why didn’t I tell her anything?” she mumbles to herself, and is wrenched from her thoughts one more time, as she waves to Mercy – watching her finally boards the hovercraft. Pharah is somewhat relieved after seeing the familiar faces she knows so well behind her Angela; Reinhardt, Symmetra, even McCree; and she knows that Angela will be safe.

She _knows_ it. But her worries torment her so.

 “She already knows how you feel, Fareeha. She knows.”

Pharah feels herself a little surprised from the familiar, soothing voice behind her, and, almost as if in reaction, turns around to her mother; before wordlessly covering her lower face with her cobalt gauntlet, and looking away as the tears fell with an unwelcome arrival.

Ana’s eyes soften, and she places her hands on the arm that bears the hand covering Pharah’s face.

“It’ll be okay, sweetheart. It’s just four days. You’ll see her again in no time.”

“You know full well a lot can happen in four days, mother. I’d never live with myself if -”

“ _Nothing_ is going to happen to Angela Ziegler. This woman practically invented the healing arts! Nothing is going to happen to her. Not a damn thing. As someone who spends twelve hours and upwards a day with the girl, I’d expect you to know that better than anyone!” Ana playfully chastises with a smile, and Pharah grins weakly. “And you know she’ll be fine, especially under Reinhardt’s protection. Understand?”

Pharah sniffles a little, and Ana dabs at her eyes. _It’s been a long time since I was able to be her mother._

 _How nostalgic_ , she thinks with a smile, and Pharah stands upright.

“Understand?” Ana repeats with a sympathetic tone, and Pharah nods firmly.

“…Yes. Yes I do.”

“Good. Then let’s rest up until we’re called upon.”

Pharah places a hand on Ana’s shoulder and smiles.

“Thank you, mother.”

-

It wasn’t about the time length being four days. It was never about _that_. Four days – as they had both said freely – really was nothing.

But too much could _happen_ in that time. Too much could go wrong.

And although that was a few days ago, Pharah still thinks how the past four days have felt like nothing but a large, wistful, unwanted blur.

A blur without Angela Ziegler at her side, at that, and a blur that was only good for being able to scope out the chocolates for her loved one without anybody noticing. Volskaya’s airport had an imported section, and luckily for Pharah, the raptora suit was always put to good use. Like buying her girlfriend chocolates.

If even her mother hadn’t noticed her picking them out, she had done well – and she hoped that Angela would love them when she returned.

Pharah often lays awake at night, and this night was no different.

The night before Mercy’s return. It was _here_. All the toiling and emotional turmoil and worrying was about to come to an end.

Pharah was so excited to see Mercy again. God, just to hear her _voice_ , to see her golden, beautiful face return, smiling like a beacon of hope right into her soul. She couldn’t wait to see Mercy idly poking the edge of her chin with her pencil, or the way she always made coffee without milk. She couldn’t wait for all the little things to be back in her life; as well as knowing the day coming was Valentine’s Day.

She lets out a groan to herself at the frustrating, recurring thought of kissing Mercy’s skin and not being able to, and consequently raking her hands down her face in frustration, tossing and turning in her bed; no position underneath the sheet can relax her tonight, and she lays like a hard board against the mattress.

Angela Ziegler is damn beautiful, Pharah thinks always, and particularly in her alone moments of the twilight. Beautiful, kind, and a shining, wonderful example of a woman - no, of a _person_ , to everyone in the world. Pharah knew she respected Angela long before she realized her feelings, and certainly long after that realization, too.

The time they spent together was a luxury, even in the midst of the battlefield, and Pharah often staked her pride on the fact she was able to get Mercy out of danger in a pinch.

Flying up high. Nobody else could do that. Nobody else could soar through the thick morning fog of Gibraltar, or the bitter chill of King’s Row and its night-time breeze. Nobody could anybody else protect her the ways that she could, and in those moments was when Pharah felt prouder than ever.

Mercy would rest against Pharah, in their relaxed moments. Beneath the trees, or in the medical rooms, she would rest. Weary from the healing, weary from the emotional turmoil. But every day, she did it. For humanity. For her. Angela Ziegler was the person that Pharah knew everyone should aspire to be.

And how could she _not_ love her? Pharah thought. The moonlight streamed in against the pictures littering Pharah’s beside table; a framed one of her and Angela smiling taking on a noticeable glint. Pharah sighed with a wistful, happy smile; there had been no news of Mercy since she had been gone, and Pharah was a very firm believer after Ana that no news was good news.

Pharah shifted herself out of bed. The cold nipped at her legs, the weather clearly unimpressed with her choice of shorts in the bedroom hours; as she picked up the wooden picture frame in one hand, looking down at it with an affectionate longing, and laying back in her bed.

“Angela…” she mumbled.

The thoughts of kissing Angela Ziegler were certainly what plagued Pharah the most. On top of the worry and the anxiety of her loved one being the backbone of the team’s support, Pharah worried for herself, floating around in the mid-air, shooting rockets and missing her targets for want of her lips on Angela’s. The blonde’s lips were so soft-looking, so beautiful and rosy and full of smiles, and Pharah felt her cheeks getting a little hot at the thought.

“Ugh, stop being so lame…” she mumbled to herself, and rubbed her face.

The noises Angela would make during their kisses. The feeling of her body pressed against her in a bed, warm, and unthreatened. The marks Pharah hadn’t gotten to see yet, the places she hadn’t gotten to touch with her own hands. The thoughts were, truly, enough to keep her awake at night, in many ways.

But like all things, time waits for no one; and soon, the morning finally came.

Pharah’s tired eyes flickered open – and then they pinged open as she sprang to her feet, throwing on any clothes she could find – before racing to the ship’s docking station.

_Angela is back today!_

She ran, and ran, and _god_ , she ran like hell; was the dock always this far? The bitter, morning wind pricking along her warm cheeks, and her strong legs not slipping at all against the frozen snow, burning thighs working like a solid machine. The morning sun was peeking out from atop the buildings in Volskaya, a low, orange hum emitting silently from its rays, and Pharah’s lungs felt like they were on fire the second she skidded to a halt.

Nobody else was here, besides Winston, who was asleep next to the door’s controls. Pharah wasn’t worried, though, as she had seen him many times be rudely awoken by the loud blare of the landing horn. The docking station was empty, and Mercy was coming home. Now it was just a matter of waiting.

And before long; after many crosswords idly glazed over and tabloid gossip endured; the horn sounded.

Pharah’s heart beat like a drum. Winston, as expected, leapt to his feet immediately, slamming his hands on the levers that controlled the doors as if by instinct, and the doors opened. Pharah wrung her hands together, pacing a little as the ship began to land; the ship whirring down to a halt.

The doors opened, and like a shot, she came.

“Angela!” Pharah exclaimed with joy, watching Mercy stumble out hurriedly from the craft. Pharah felt the bubble of affection well in her heart from seeing her, and not only that, but seeing that she’d stumbled out to look for her. Mercy’s face went from curious, to surprised, and then to completely elated, and Pharah, her beaming smile in-tact, thought that seeing her girlfriend so damn happy made all of this mess so worth it.

“Fareeha!” Mercy also called in turn, her smile so wide it was almost hurting her cheeks, and ran at full pelt down the ramp; Pharah jogging over to her to make sure they didn’t crash into each other, and, without a single inch of hesitation, threw their arms around one another; Pharah spinning around with the love of her life in her arms tightly. “Ah, mein liebling!”

“Angela! Oh, God, I missed you!” Pharah breathlessly spoke into a muffle of Mercy’s shoulders and golden blonde hair. “I missed you, my Angela!”

And after a reunion, a briefing from Reinhardt to Winston with Mercy present, and Pharah eagerly waiting for a chance to be alone with her loved one, the rest of the day goes from one to a hundred very, very fast.

 

The two stumbled backwards through Pharah’s door, to which Pharah kicked it idly closed behind her, but there are things you care about more than that when you’re in the middle of making out with your girlfriend.

Her hands crept up Mercy’s back, under the pea-green of her turtleneck that she wore, and fast fingers made work of the clasp of her bra. The blonde, in Pharah’s arms, was melting, with each kiss becoming more and more impassioned. Her lips were hungry, and her lust was hungrier.

“More…” Angela breathed, almost in a demand, and Pharah was only too happy to oblige.

They stumbled again, legs tangled between the heated moments, back against the bed; Mercy’s thighs clenching up around Pharah’s midriff, as she pulls up Pharah’s hastily thrown on sweater over her head; hearing the clink of her braids knocking together as she did so. Mercy’s hands bunched themselves up a little harder than her usual gentle touch into Pharah’s hair, with her thighs clenching even harder, and Pharah’s hands explored across Mercy’s body.

Their first time. Of course Pharah had _thought_ about it, but she had never thought of it _as_ their first time. She’d thought about sex and about all the things that she knew would turn Mercy on, but she had never really thought of it as the first time she’d be touching Mercy. In her mind, after all, she’d done that a thousand times; but the reality was always so much better than her imaginings.

Pharah kisses every inch of Mercy, that day. They don’t leave the room for hours, and neither of them want to. Clothes are strewn across Pharah’s floor, and the room is full of noise; soft moans, brushes of the sheets on top of them. Pharah kisses the lines littering Mercy’s thighs before moving her lips in between her legs, and after feeling her squirm and dig her nails into her scalp and come against her tongue, she moves; lips grazing the protrusions of her hips, and the space between her breasts.

Mercy, in turn, between the laboured breaths and the dizzy sensation of wanting to get fucked senseless after all the stimulation, kisses her lips along every scar, every mark, every sign of battle that lay across Pharah’s skin. It was sensual, it was sensitive, and it was intimate. It was everything that they wanted and more.

Mercy fucks Pharah first. She presses her body in between her legs, and slips two fingers into her with a satisfying ease. They fuck, hard and soft and slow and fast, several times over, and it stops being their first time. Mercy slips onto Pharah’s waist and off of it, while the latter does the same. Pharah shifts her weight between Mercy’s legs as Mercy lays against the pillow, and bites against Pharah’s lip gently.

They explore each other, crave each other, and it’s so much more than _just_ fucking, because Pharah alone can’t stop herself from wanting to hear more. More of her voice, more of her pleasure, feel even more of her skin. Mercy clings to Pharah in the heat of the moment, breaths grazing the cusp of Pharah’s ear, only to send a shiver down her spine of delight.

And, at last, Mercy lets out one final cry of pleasure, with her body reverberating up against Pharah’s exhausted, tensed abdomen, and they collapse in a heap, wrapped up in each other’s arms and legs.

They relax.

The dusk’s light pours through Pharah’s blinds, and it has never felt more like heaven.

Pharah lays with Mercy on her chest; one arm propping up her neck against the pillow, worn out and aching, while the other holds Mercy protectively, comfortably up against her skin. Mercy has one arm draped across Pharah’s hips, her heart still beating fast to recover from the events just past; perfectly contented, exhausted, and – if only from her hair – looking extremely like she _has_ just been having sex with her girlfriend for the past few hours after days apart.

Mercy moves her arm from Pharah’s hips to trace the lines of the sunlight streaming in.

She watches, as it trickles from Pharah’s blinds against her chestnut skin, and they listen to the cries of birds and the sounds of water from the lake besides them. Pharah strokes Mercy’s back idly, and Mercy kisses gently at the cusp of Pharah’s breast.

“…I love you, you know.” Mercy mumbles into the silence, and Pharah, even without looking down, can hear the smile in her voice.

She beams.

“I love you, too.”

“I’m so happy to be back with you, mein liebling.”

Pharah kisses the top of Mercy’s blonde hair, and breathes in the familiar scent of vanilla she knows so well. The moment is right; the moment is now. Valentine’s Day might be tomorrow…but Pharah knows that she wants to give Mercy the gift she’s been so longing to give her at this moment.

“…I bought you something for tomorrow.” she exclaims after a moment of silence, and Mercy gasps.

“You did!” Mercy excitedly speaks, and props herself up on her hands. Pharah can’t help but think how good Mercy looks with messy blonde hair, and especially after she _herself_ was the culprit of such a styling.

“I did.” she states proudly, and Mercy giggles. “But…do you _want_ it now? I can still wait if you want. It is your present, after all.”

“Oh!” Mercy beams, and places a hand to her mouth. “Yes! If you’re okay with that, I mean.”

“Of course.” Pharah exclaims, and leans down against the edge of her bed with a grunt. She fumbles around under the bed; she was _sure_ she’d put it here; before finally, her fingertips reach the familiar velvet of the heart-shaped box of chocolates, and the card she’d tucked into the ribbon.

She pulls it out from underneath, and Mercy gasps; looking at Pharah with a grateful affection.

“Oh, Fareeha! Is this - ?!”

“I know you love Swiss chocolates, Angela. I hope you like them.”

“I already love them!” she beams, and kisses Pharah’s lips with a smile. “Oh, wow…how on earth did you get hold of these?”

If Pharah had got the access to her Raptora Suit and the receipt to the chocolates, she would surely be kicking them under the bed at this moment.

“Anything for you, my love.” she opts to reply, and Mercy grins.

She strokes Pharah’s face as she opens the card, and her eyes soften; ocean blue eyes scanning the lovestruck words on the card. She looks up at a now red in the face Pharah, who is looking away at the blinds, and places her hands on Pharah’s own.

“Thank you, my love…this really was so thoughtful of you. I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone else that I like Swiss chocolates…but I suppose there’s been no need.”

Pharah chuckles, and kisses Mercy’s grinning cheeks.

“I can’t stop thinking of you, Angela. I would do anything to make you smile.”

Mercy beams, and lays against Pharah, balancing the chocolate box on top of Pharah’s stomach to share; and she laughs to herself into the side of Pharah’s ribs.

“Hm?”

“You know…I bought you something too.”

Pharah feels a bolt hit her spine in the best way.

“You did?!”

“I did...” she exclaims, and brushes her nose against Pharah’s with a knowing smile. “But you’ll just have to wait and see what the doctor has ordered.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to follow me on mercyisgay @ tumblr! (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧


End file.
